Title: friendship failure
Fandom: Marvel Comics (Hawkeye)
Characters: Kate Bishop, Clint Barton
Rating: PG-13
Words: 404
Warnings: injuries, and alcohol mentioned
Summary: Kate is hurt, Clint is being a bad friend


Kate stumbled through the front door of the apartment she shared with Clint feeling dead on her feet. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of disaster. She dropped her gear on the floor by the door and flopped onto the couch. She was beat. Every inch of her body was in pain. She had barely made it out of the fight alive. Kate knew that going alone hadn’t been one of her best ideas, but there had been civilians in trouble and time had been of an essence. She had tried to get a hold of Clint, but he had been out and wasn’t answering his phone. He had been hard to reach for a while. Even when he was around, he wasn’t really there. She didn’t know what was up with him. She had tried to get him to talk to her, but that hadn’t worked either.

Clint stumbled in several minutes after Kate. He reeked of booze and looked like crap.
“Where have you been?” Kate asked.
Clint ignored her, went to the kitchen, and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Kate shook her head. She didn’t need this crap. She pushed herself off the couch and groaned. Clint turned to look at her.
“You’re bleeding on the couch,” he said.
Kate blinked. There wasn’t even the hint of concern in his voice. Had it really come to this? Was this really happening? “Really?” she asked.
“Yeah, you should probably do something about that,” Clint said.
Kate watched as he downed the beer and then went for another. She shook her head and felt her head swim. She looked down and saw just how much of her blood was staining the couch. It looked kind of like a lot. She knew she should probably to go to the hospital.
“Clint, could you call 911?” she asked.
“Call them yourself,” he said. Clint then took his bottle of beer and stumbled out of the room.
Kate stood up and slowly made her way to where she dropped her stuff, trailing blood along the way. She sat on the floor and found her phone in her bag. She managed to make the call and tell the nice 911 operator what she needed just before she passed out. The last thing the floated through her head before consciousness left her was about what a fitting end to a crappy day it made.